The Shorter Side of The Story
by BitterSweet Pharazon
Summary: Gimli's retelling of the legend of LOTR in his own words, with the assistance of his good pal Legolas.


The Shorter Side of the Story:

The Memoirs of Gimli

(a/n. hola. This is the first chapter of Gimli's tale. This is rated PG-13 for swearing and SLASH. This is sorta an ode to Lemony Snicket's books, if you see any connections. This is my baby and there is more to come so enjoy.)

Hello my name is Gimli, sole savior of middle earth, and this is my story: THE NOT TRUE...BUT ACCURATE ACCOUNT OF MY MEANLESS BUT PROFOUND LIFE.

Ever since I was a young lad, I never felt as though I was part of the "inner circle". My father, Gloin, wasn't a very pleasant man. He groaned, and smelled, and didn't clean out his ears—as a good dwarf should. He always told me that if I was lucky enough, I would be and look just like him. And I'd look back at him...with his large nose, matted hair, and potbelly...and oh goodie, as you would imagine, I was just pissing myself in anticipation. Not to mention, my mother had a beard as all dwarf women do. You think its embarrassing to have your mom kiss you in front of your friends, well its worse when her stubble is cutting you little-dwarf-lad skin into hamburger meat.

After a pretty normal childhood (if you call a bearded women normal) I entered my awkward teen years. And mind you, I had my fair share of teen angst. One time, my pappy refused to buy me the pony I wanted! Oh! She was so cute with her golden hair. I was even going to name her Ruffles, and I loved her, and wanted to hold her, and...well, I am getting a little too excited. (Deep Breath) Anywho, so of course I rationally explained to him that since all the other girls...er...I MEAN BOYS had ponies I should have one too. But for some reason, that didn't work. So then I tried the ass-kisser approach ("Daddy. If you get me this pony, I will love you forever and ever and ever...") the bribing approach ("Daddy, if you get me this pony I will tell you who mommy is having an affair with.") and even the threatening approach ("DADDY I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T GET ME THAT PONY!!") And you know what. I never did get that pony. In fact, my dad said, "Shorty, shut up or I'll fuckin kill you." Later in life, my good friend Legolas hypothesized that this incident caused me to develop Napoleonic syndrome and that it made me the way I am today.

I grew up into the unquestionable good-looking fellow that I am now, though some may question that. The girls, of course, would fall all over me. The only problem was I wasn't a good leader. I would yell and fight, but when it would come to battle...lets just say I wasn't the first lad to step-up. Of course I was smart, sexy, charming, and quite articulate; but had the bravery of a blind gofer. So I decided to go on a little adventure, and that's when I go the letter. It was from Elrond, and it read:

You, Gimli. Son of Gloin of the house of Erebor. Are semi-formally invited to my top-secret council. Where we will concoct a secret master plan to destroy the secret ring that could kill us all. Muffins will be provided...except for ring-bearers and citizens of Canada. (Frodo: DAMN YOU ALL.)

I was bored, and decided what the heck?! I'll go to Elrond's meeting. Who knows...it could be fun, right? I mean, watching elves try to communicate and get something accomplished is like watching a dog chase its tail. They just keep starting back at square one tell their pretty-little tails combust. It's more fun to watch they then Lifetime. And whoa man, that is SO my favorite channel. All those poor battered woman. tear tear

Along with the letter came MAPQUEST printout directions to get there. Wither the map was sent by Elrond or other partied is unknown, even though he rather doesn't like parties. Either way, I had been to Rivendell before. Yeah! I BET YOUR STUPID MOVIE DIDN'T TELL YOU THAT, DID IT, DID IT?? Ahem. Sorry. It's the Napoleonic thingy again. Continuing on, Elrond and me go way back. We used to play water polo together. Imagine this: a team of elves vs. a team of dwarfs meets every two months in Rivendell to compete in water polo. Therefore, even though he was a cough elf cough, we formed a friendship on our passionate mutual love for the game. Not to mention it was through Elrond that I meet Aragorn. And he was my dogg, yo! I BET YOUR STUPID MOVIE DIDN'T TELL YOU THAT DID IT, DID IT? Ahem. Sorry. I promise that was the last time I will do that. You see, Strider was human...so my friendship wasn't taboo with him like it was with Elrond, and later on Legolas. We would spar, and hit the local bars and such. Not to mention he had some hot girls around. Like wutz-her-name...Arwen! Yeah that's it. Yazer, she was hot. I told her that once, and her brothers Elladan and Elrohir gave me a beating I will never forget. Aragorn never realized how great she was. He was too busy screwing Legolas to notice her. Worst of all, when she, who had known about them all the time, starting going Japanese with Eowyn he, acted all surprised. What a doof. Some men are so not in touch with their feminine side. Oh my God.

Back to the story. So I packed my things (brought my polo ball. You never know if we'll have game time between saving the world and the council) and started my journey to good ol' Rivendell in elf country. I could go into detail, but it was a boring trip. I fell off my horse alot, ate a lot of canned foods (which, by the way, was really not good for my hyper tension. And trust me, I regret that now.) Elf country was creepy as usual. The elves would point and ask me A) what was I doing there B) do I have any dwarf-gold on me C) Do female dwarf really have beards. Eventually, I started to get the feeling that I was wearing a sign on my back that said "If you are a arrogant, rude, elf, come and ask a me a question about some common misconception of my culture and people." It was sooooo annoying. Like holy shit, how stupid can these elves get? Are they descended from the famed ditz-elves of Mirkwood. But we'll go into that later. I finally got to Rivendell. And there it was. All glorious, shiny, and majestic...and funk man. I really wanted to go home. I had just turned around when I had heard. "So Gimli, you've finally arrived." I know that boring voice anywhere. Elrond.

"No shit, Sherlock! No...I'm weeding your frickin garden." I hate it when elves state the obvious, and they do it all the time. Your head will be in a frickin' warg's mouth and they'll say that they think danger approaches.

"-ime naugrin, cirith i-tindome" he muttered.

"What! Speak normal!"

"I said 'you dwarfs try my patience." He said in that flat tone of his. Eyebrows arched condescendingly as usual. I coulda killed him right then.

"Dude, what ever just give me a Zima." I snapped. Elrond rolled his eyes and told me to follow him. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

(a/n: okay. I hoped you liked it. Please R&R. Preview Next chapter Gimli talks about his memories during the whole-ring-ordeal. Plus what really happened to Boromir that one sad day. Peace out.


End file.
